


Two of a kind

by Meeralith



Series: ALT Series Prequels [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: ALT series Prequels, F/F, First Meeting, Injury, Wraith Feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 15:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meeralith/pseuds/Meeralith
Summary: A Vampire runs across the remains of a recently crashed Wraith shuttle... and encounters a survivor. (Prequel to my "All Living Things" series)





	Two of a kind

A deafening, thunderous rumble has shaken the ground. Then, a pillar of dark smoke started to rise from the woods.  
Helena is perched on a tall tree's branch, overlooking the crash site from a safe distance. Hidden under the night's cover, she feels safe, she feels in control.   
There's a survivor within the smoldering remains of the shuttle, she can smell its blood, hear its labored breaths.  
Strange and dangerous, this situation she finds herself in. Helena watches the smoke rise from the wreck, observing it for movement. Survival instinct and curiosity fight for dominance.

A piece of carapace is pushed aside, and a figure emerges. Helena narrows her brows. So her intuition was right after all.  
The survivor turns out to be a woman, wounded and shaky, dirtied with blood and soot. She looks inhuman, her singed skin shows a pale green hue. When she turns into Helena's direction while peeling herself out of the wreck, her face becomes visible.  
Alien features that Helena has never beheld before, prominent cheek- and browbones, reptilian, slit pupils in golden eyes. There is a pair of pits on the creature's cheeks, parallel to her nostrils. A trickle of dark blood runs down her temples from underneath her white hair.  
There's a limp in her gait when she walks further from the wreck, head held high, nostrils flaring along with the pits beside them.  
Her gaze flickers up to Helena's hiding spot, and for a moment, it feels like she's making direct eye contact with her.

“No need to hide. I know you are there.” she calls out with an odd, multilayered voice.  
Helena freezes and holds her breath.  
Not human, she thinks. There is no reason to fear her.  
She swings off her branch and lands effortlessly before the unfamiliar creature.  
Now that she can see her up close. Helena notices a hungry glint in her eyes, and the flexing hand by her side. She circles her, not once shifting her gaze away. Focused. Lurking.  
Helena knows this well. Often enough has she looked like this, circled her human prey before pouncing, sinking her fangs into them, and leaving them behind, unconscious in dark alleys.

“What do you hunger for?” Helena asks her, throwing the woman off her game for a second. Genuine surprise breaks the suspense.  
“You do not know?” she responds, then turns her palm up, for Helena to see.  
It has a long, tight-lipped opening, pulled open to reveal dark, uneven tissue inside. Her hand shakes and her fingers curl into claws.   
“I am wounded.” she rasps. “I must feed. If I fail to, I will die.”  
Helena inhales sharply, sensing the unique scent of blood, exposed to oxygen. She parts her lips and allows air to flow into her throat, the smell causing a twinge behind her fangs.  
“Please.” the woman pleads. “I can tell that you are unlike the humans I am used to.”  
“I'm not human.” Helena says, noting that she never answered her original question.

Regardless, Helena takes a cautious step forward and sees the woman's pupils widen. Her arm is oustretched to her now, the hand reaching for her, but the distance is just great enough for her fingertips not to touch her.  
Helena grabs her hand before she can do anything against it, and turns the palm up, splays it open. The scent of blood is stronger now and she sees the woman sway dangerously on her feet.   
“You lost too much blood.” she states, letting her gaze sweep over the several lacerations on the woman's torso. Their eyes meet again. “What do you need me to do?”  
She closes in, her arm bending between them, and she moves Helena's open coat aside, fingertips brushing against her exposed collarbone.  
Helena takes her wordless cue, and guides her hand to her chest. The woman looks up to her before she flattens her palm against Helena's skin.

Claws dig into her skin before the pain hits Helena. Her entire body tenses up under the woman's touch and something sinister flashes in her eyes. She parts her lips, revealing razor-sharp teeth. Then, the flames consume Helena, life fleeting before her eyes.  
Her heart pumps stubbornly in her ribcage, as every fiber of her being screams with torment. There's a blur in her vision, dark spots growing and through the ever-present agony, Helena feels weightless. Her body rebels uselessly against the woman's hold, a fight fated to be lost as the world spins and goes dark around Helena.

With her consciousness, the pain also faded, leaving Helena groaning with displeasure when she awakens again. Her body feels strained and spent. The pangs on hunger tugging at her nerves.   
The next thing she perceives is the dull throb of a half-healed burn wound, on her hands, shoulders, upper arms.   
Dim light irritates her eyes when she finally opens them and tries to make sense of where she is.There's a wall of stone behind her, a rock formation making up the ceiling. Two large, dark pieces of cloth are affixed to the stone, veiling the blaring sunlight from the outside.  
Helena looks down on herself.  
Her arms and hands are burned down to the bone, knuckles clearly visible under a then membrane of mending skin. The burn is even, and Helena sighs.  
Sunlight. Whatever the woman did to her has likely weakened her enough to make her vulnerable to the sun's deadly rays again.

Before she can continue her train of thought, the cloth directly opposite to her is lifted, light pouring in like a jet of flame. Helena hisses at the light and scrambles closer too the wall, shielding her face with her already burnt arms.  
“Forgive me!” a familiar voice calls out, and Helena lowers her arms again, seeing with relief that the cloth has been lowered again, stopping the searing light from reaching her.

The womans kneels by the entrance to this makeshift shelter.  
She looks better, the blood washed off her body, and all wounds gone. Only her torn dress still reminds of the crash she survived.  
“Your skin started sizzling when I fed. I brought you here to keep you out of direct sunlight.” she explains and Helena nods slowly.  
“Good.” she croaks.   
The woman comes closer.  
“You saved my life by allowing me to feed on you.” She gestures to the various holes and tears in her dress. “Your strength restored mine, and I recovered from my injuries. Now. Tell me how to mend yours.”

The faint memory of blood enters Helena's mind, the scent that had led her to the crash site.  
“Come closer.” she demands, and as the woman obeys, Helena reaches out with her ruined arms, pulling her close.  
She has an unique scent to her, now that blood no longer overpaints it. A slight tang, pines and rain. The woman doesn't even attempt to stop Helena as her lips approach her neck.  
“Feed,” she says. “Feed on me, for you have fed me.”

The smooth skin gives out easily under Helena's fangs and as the woman's blood begins to flow, a realization strikes her.  
She's psychic.  
Hunger and pain meld them as Helena feeds, her destroyed skin prickling as it mends. A sense of warmth and familiarity, affection even. Gratitude, and Helena understands why this woman did not leave her to die in the sun. She feels their hearts beat in unison, one system, one being.  
Helena knows, if she takes too much blood from her, this woman will need to feed again, so she moves carefully in this deadly dance

Residual telepathy, she's always called it. This affinity to sense emotion, to gauge her prey's alertness. But against the sheer mental presence of this woman, Helena's power pales into nothingness. Like a silken sheet, her mind envelops hers and Helena has to strain against her to pull away.  
A growl escapes her when she breaks the embrace, glancing at her works just in time to watch the puncture wounds close and the bruise fade away.

“You are powerful.” the woman says, whispering in awe. “I have never encountered a creature even close to equal to me.”  
“I felt it too. You are like me.” Helena responds when she catches her breath. “Your blood is...” She cuts herself off, and examines her arms, the fresh, new skin within the outlines of the burns, redness slowly paling away.  
“Potent. I know.” she says. “Your life is too. I took much less than what I would take from a human. What are you?”  
“I'm a monster.” Helena says, flicking her tongue against her fangs. “That's the only name my species was ever given.”

She angles her head and smiles.  
“Do you have a name then, monster?” she inquires, her tone playful.  
“Helena. My name is Helena.”  
“Well, Helena...” the woman says, taking Helena's hands into her. “I am Queen Ivory, and unless we repair my shuttle, this world is now my home as well as yours.”


End file.
